The Night is Cold
by Morning's First Light
Summary: Just a few quiet moments with Eren and Levi one night.


The night is cold, but it is calm. Calm enough that I'm not needed, and I can spend my time here with you. Your hair is sweeping gracelessly across your forehead as you force your eyes to remain open. I already know it's pointless to tell you to just go to sleep because you never listen to me anyway, so I stay silent. Your chest moves beneath my fingers with every breath, and part of me wants to hold it still until it stops struggling. But a more rational part of me is saying that there's nothing dangerous about you even when you're trying to be dangerous; let alone when you're falling asleep. So my hand remains gently on your chest, mimicking the rise and fall.

As a distraction from everything buzzing away in my head, trying to convince me that I could be spending my time more efficiently, I try to match my breathing to yours. But yours is erratic, one minute slowing to the point that I think you're asleep, the next speeding up and becoming deeper as you force your eyes open. I give up on matching your breath, though you don't notice, and instead I try to match your heart rate. But your heart is doing the same thing as your breath, and I recognize the futility of the exercise. Besides, it's quite difficult for me to perfectly control my heart rate. The night is cold, and I think there must be a draft somewhere in my room, as I feel cool air blowing against the back of my neck every few seconds. Your warm breath evens it out as it hits me from the front, but I can't help but wonder how clean your teeth are. I know if I bring this up, you'll tell me to stop worrying about it because your teeth are perfectly clean, but I won't believe you, and we'll begin arguing. And that will keep you awake, and I already feel bad you're not sleeping.

I have to wonder why you keep doing this, night after night. You force yourself to stay awake, usually staring at me, for a long enough time that I know that you'll be useless in the morning if you're expected to function beyond even the most basic parameters of the word. I place a hand over your eyes, but you quickly swat it away, berating me gently for what I did. I lower my hand back towards your chest, only for you to grab it. I fight you for a moment, trying to wrench my hand out of your grip, but your fingers tighten, and your nails begin digging into the back of my hand, so I stop. We pause for a moment, with you looking at my head and me looking at our hands. Then, without warning, you pull me closer to you with the arm wrapped around my back. I push against you, trying to get away, but you make me freeze with one word.

"Levi."

It's just my name, and I've heard it said countless times, but it's somehow different when you say it. It makes me stop pushing away, if only because it leaves me puzzling over why it is that I can hear it said constantly and never mind, but you simply have to say it once, and it leaves my heart racing and my head spinning for a second. When the world evens out, I simply stare back at you, hoping that I look like some sort of intimidating something or other and not a lovestruck teenager. Judging by the grin you display, I don't think I do. But then, even if I did, you would probably still grin because you do stupid things like that a lot.

You return to the game where you force your eyes open, but not before laying your cheek against my hair. The only reason I know you're still doing this is because each time you force your eyes open your body jerks involuntarily. After a few minutes that could easily be an eternity, I look up at you.

"Sleep."

You want to argue- I can see it in your eyes- but this time I succeed in looking intimidating, in threatening you silently, and you close your eyes for good. I turn my head back down so you're comfortable again. Your breathing evens out soon, and I know you're asleep. It takes me a moment to realize that your fingers are still intertwined with mine, and part of me wants to pull away. But a more rational part of me knows that if I try to, you'll wake up again, and I figure at least one of us should sleep tonight. If you knew I was still awake, and would still be awake for hours to come, then you probably would not have caved so easily when I told you to sleep. But you did, so I return to my game where I try to match your breathing. But this time it's much too easy, and I get bored of it quickly. You shift suddenly, and the arm you have wrapped around my back moves to cover the back of my neck, perfectly blocking the cold air that kept hitting me.

The night is cold, but you're warm. So I guess I can't really complain right now. Especially when you smell like my soap, which means that you're not just freshly-cleaned, but you got that way from bathing where I do. The thought is mildly arousing, as I picture you in the showering, but I refuse to react since this is neither the time nor the place. Instead, I move closer to you somehow, and bury my face in your neck so I can breathe in the smell of you mixed with my soap. No, I really can't complain, I guess.


End file.
